


Before & After

by quartermasterandhisagent



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-10-10 18:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10444209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartermasterandhisagent/pseuds/quartermasterandhisagent
Summary: “You left.” Q’s words cut sharper than he’d expected. Eight months, flying solo the way he’d long grown accustomed to before. Before Spectre, before Skyfall, before Boothroyd, before M…He’d loathed every minute of it.





	1. Chapter 1

“You left.” Q’s words cut sharper than he’d expected. Eight months, flying solo the way he’d long grown accustomed to before. Before Spectre, before Skyfall, before Boothroyd, before M…He’d loathed every minute of it.

Swann was dead. She’d been pleasurable company, enjoyable even. But she wanted to return to her life, the one she’d carved out independent of her father. And while Bond had been grateful she’d made room for him as effortlessly as she did anything else, he’d grown restless after a scant few weeks. He hadn’t blamed her, when she grew tired of his destructive habits – his drink, pushing his body beyond what it ought to be physically capable of with midnight swims that were more like training drills he’d endured during his time in the navy, his temper that left a wake of burnt buildings (drug dealers, human traffickers) and broken bones from bar fights. But what he hadn’t been counting on is his impatient restlessness drawing attention from the men he was supposed to be tailing. He hadn’t been expecting to come home from a jog, only to find Madeline dead in the bathtub with a crude message drawn in lipstick on the bathroom mirror. The balcony doors of the bedroom open, curtains blowing in the breeze reminding him of another time he’d been too careless.

And now Q standing here in the darkness of his office, without the slightest bit of warmth or wry humour. He hadn’t been expecting it of course, but maybe he’d hoped. He’d hoped that _someone_ would still care. Everyone else who’d ever cared had gone and died. Killed by some cruel twist of fate, or because of some reckless decision on his part. _This_ , having to meet Q’s eye without anything to show for himself, and knowing there was nothing he could say to make up for lost time, was somehow the worst part of this whole sodding mission. James opened his mouth once, twice, before turning on his heels and walking back out the way he’d come.

Bond’s meeting with M had gone over considerably better than reporting to his Quartermaster. James was too exhausted, mentally and emotionally to pause and contemplate when he’d begun to think of Q as _his_. They’d never been together, Bond had never done more than appreciate from a distance, but some small part of him had always regarded Q as different than any of his other minders. Special. _Important._ It was funny how these things always revealed themselves to Bond just a hair too late.

“You seemed to not cause too much damage on your time away, double oh seven. Consider me impressed,” M had intoned, flipping through a briefing without glancing up at Bond once.

“Sir,” Bond replied. He shifted imperceptibly, taking pressure off his bad knee. It was raining in London, and it ached more than he’d remembered it having done so before he left.

“See to that knee at medical before you get some rest. You look like hell, Bond.”  M looked up from the paperwork in front of him then, his cool gaze assessing perhaps whether he was going to fall apart on the spot. Sometimes, he felt like it was possible, the way he’d felt raw and numb at the same time in the days that followed the explosion at HQ. Just like before. “Report back in forty-eight hours for your next mission. Provided you pass medical’s eval. You missed your annual physical while you were away. “

“How fortunate,” Bond replied, standing a little straighter. He knew M didn’t miss the way he couldn’t quite meet his eye, the way his smirk didn’t feel quite right even though he’d perfected it long before he’d learned it riled up superiors.

Behind M, Tanner coughed, covering a laugh. M’s pointed glare froze Tanner in his place.

“I’m sure you’ll see to it as soon as possible. Wouldn’t want to miss out on the chance to get back in the field.” M replied. He nodded in dismissal, turning back towards a stack of paperwork.

“Sir. Tanner,” Bond nodded towards the chief of staff before turning his heel and exiting M’s office empty handed.

Moneypenny was waiting for him when he emerged. She’d been listening in, that much was clear from the gloating grin she wore. He noted the hard glint in her eyes, the subtle way she held herself a little taller, the stubborn set of her jaw told him everything he’d needed to know.  He sighed, tucking his hands into his pocket, ducking his head just the slightest bit.

“That’s not going to save you, you know,” Moneypenny announced, smug. “Save it for your Boffin,” she added after a beat.

“He won’t have me,” Bond replied, his voice even.

“Oh? I can’t imagine why,” Moneypenny was practically gloating at this point.

“I should have told him. He has the clearance,” Bond's voice didn't waiver, but it was a near thing.

“And yet.” Moneypenny fired back.

Almost without thought, James’ hand came up to the bridge of his nose, as he sighed, resigned. Moneypenny stilled at this, causing Bond to look up sharply at her. Her phone pinged. She picked it up deftly, shaking her head before depositing it in her pocket.

“You picked a hell of a time to start listening to orders, Bond,” she said eventually, not unkindly. She patted him on the shoulders before heading towards the lift.

He hadn't missed the way she made sure to hit him square in the left shoulder where the bullet wound from Skyfall still puckered and ached.

He deserved that much he supposed.


	2. Chapter 2

“Did you know?” Q asked as Moneypenny set a fresh cup of tea beside his computer.

“Know what? I know lots of things, dear boffin,” Moneypenny replied lightly, leaning casually against the metal table that Q insisted on using as his work bench. Q hadn’t missed the way she’d been deliberately evasive, damn her.

“Come off it, Eve. You know what I mean,” Q said pointedly.

Eve hadn’t met his eyes. “Yes.”

“And you said nothing because?”

Silence.

“Moneypenny.” Tanner’s voice was sharp, urgent. Eve stood smoothly, reaching down to flatten a wrinkle in her dress as she turned to greet the other man. “M needs you in his office, something’s come up. He’d like an extra set of eyes on it.”

She nods, turning to leave with Tanner, but not before she reaches out and pats Q’s arm in what’s supposed to be a reassuring manner. She doesn’t say anything, but he gets the message nonetheless.

Tanner was still standing there after Moneypenny had left.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Q asked. Tanner may technically not be Q’s superior officer, but Q had a healthy respect for the man. He suspected Tanner was capable of a lot more than first impressions would indicate, and his homely demeanor was simply an act. He’d learned not to underestimate Tanner, he was invaluable in a crisis.

“Bond’s back.” Tanner said, conversationally. As if he didn’t know Q knew.

“So I’ve heard,” Q replied, dryly. He doesn’t so much as glance in the other man’s direction as he abandons his coding in favour of a prototype he’s been working on for the better part of two weeks. If they’re going to have this conversation, he’d rather be otherwise occupied. It’d give him the excuse of not replying straight away, if needed be. Not that either man was under the illusion that Q wasn’t capable of carrying on a conversation while in the middle of his work. He wouldn’t have been able to reach the rank of Quartermaster otherwise.

“He’s due for his medical in the morning.” Q reached for a screwdriver. “Assuming he passes, he’ll be headed out to Greece for a mission the day after.” Q didn’t pause in attacking a gear. “Monepenny called in R for the day shift when Bond leaves.” The screwdriver slipped out of Q’s hand. He ignored it when it fell to the floor in favour of inspecting the part more closely. “If you’d prefer she can outfit him, but M wants you on the mission.” Q reached for another screwdriver, and attacked the prototype, carefully stabbing it, until the stuck part popped free.

Q sighed, and turned to Tanner. “Much appreciated. I’ll have a kit ready and waiting for R.” Tanner doesn't question this. How Q may be mad at Bond, hurt by Bond even, but he's still not going to let the man out in the field without equipment he designed himself. 

Tanner walked across the room, deposited a dossier on Q’s bench before turning to leave. Q nodded in thanks.

“Oh, and Tanner?” Q called out. Tanner paused. “Next time, tell Moneypenny I’ll schedule my own bloody staff.”

Q's personal mobile buzzed. He picked it up to find a message from Eve.

E: _He's changed. I really thought he'd tell you._


	3. Chapter 3

He’d been sat at the bar for quarter of an hour when a tall, brunette man took the unoccupied seat beside him. He ordered whiskey, neat,  but not an overly expensive brand. He seemed to enjoy it, but was more interested in Q judging from the way he had inched close over the past twenty minutes they had made small chat. His name was Jeremy, he worked in finance on High Street, but couldn’t afford to live in the city. It seemed reasonably plausible enough to Q, seeing as even as quartermaster of MI6 he’d needed to take out a mortgage to afford his current place.

Q’s phone buzzed, his personal device (thank god). He pulled it out only to find a notification of a security camera being activated in Chelsea. Right. Bond. He’d almost forgotten that he’d set that up in the wake of Skyfall on a private network. He took a large gulp of his drink as he watched, jaw set, as Bond entered his own flat. He watched as James took a look around, obviously noting the lack of dust in an apartment that should have been covered – Q knew that Bond had yet to set up his maid service at his new apartment before he’d _left._ Q’s class slipped from his hand, dropping a few inches to the wooden bar. Thankfully it didn’t break.

“Friend of yours?” Jeremy asked, leaning too close at the bar. Reflexively, Q reached for the gun at his side, but paused. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a scene because someone got a little too handsy. Christ, he was on edge lately.

Q felt himself flush, “You could say that.” He snorted dryly as he took another sip of his drink, waiving the bartender down to get another. Of course Bond returns on his first scheduled day off in weeks. At least he couldn’t be called off for a crisis, R was more than capable of handling just about anything that had cropped up in the past few months. But it also meant he’d had to go out of his way – 45 minutes in the opposite direction of Chelsea—to avoid the man. Q pockets his phone lest the stranger get any ideas.

“Doesn’t sound like a very good friend,” Jeremy says nudging closer. And this, this is not how he’d envisioned this night going. He’d been looking to blow off a little steam, drown out the _noise_ of whatever it was that was going on in his head. But this felt wrong, and he wanted out.

Q reached for his wallet to settle his tab, standing abruptly. It had the effect of startling the other man, which was good.  His entire night had the opposite effect of what he’d been hoping for. He was debating while he waited whether or not to return to MI6 for some after-hours shooting practice or whether he should just go home.

“A pain in the arse, really.” Q replied, remembering Jeremy. Jeremy laughed, and edged closer again clearly oblivious to the fact that Q was done. Done with this conversation, done with this entire sodding night. “But he’s watching my flat while I visit family,” he lied smoothly, handing over his cash to the bartender. He glanced at his watch. “I really should be getting back now. It was nice to meet you.” Platitudes always were a solid letdown he’d found.

Jeremy stumbled back, surprised. “Sure, yeah. You too,” he mumbled, clearly disappointed. Q sighed again as he pushed forward towards the door and his car. He did a quick check, as he got into his car, and when he had been certain that no one was there to follow him he pulled out and set off for his flat.

*

It was clean. Too clean, Bond noted. He’d been gone for months, hadn’t bothered to so much as throw his trash out before his last mission. He’d been expecting to have to buy a new fridge when returned, not find a perfectly made bed with sheets that weren’t dusty.  James set his bag down by the bathroom door, and walked back into the hall. He’d noticed it then – the camera barely visible along the trim of his kitchen cupboards pointed directly towards the door. Q had wanted him to find it then. The man had hid cameras in a number of seemingly implausible places even to the extent James himself had questioned whether or not there really was a camera (until of course the camera and Q had saved his life, but he wasn’t ready to admit that just yet).

He saluted the camera lazily, no doubt Q was sat in his office watching the feed that had suddenly gone active, before stripping off his clothes right there in the middle of his living room. He cocked his head to the side, and winked before turning back towards the bathroom. A shower, some takeaway and a drink would do nicely.

When Bond exited the shower, he found a text waiting from Q. He had no memory of actually having _earned_ Q’s number, and yet here it was already programmed into his phone. He was disappointed at the loss of opportunity.

_The thanks I get_

Bond grinned, as he thumbed out his reply   Enjoy that did you?

Q’s response was almost instantaneous. _No_

Bond laughed, noting with surprise the tightness around his shoulder easing. He’d thought it was exhaustion from a long flight and an even longer day at HQ. He hadn’t realized he’d been _worried._ Damn it.

Glad to see you care.

_I really don’t_  Q’s reply had said.

Bond placed his phone on the granite countertop as he headed towards the door to answer the delivery. And if he was doing so, dressed in loose pair of sweats, which he knew hung a little low, well then he couldn’t be blamed for that could he?


End file.
